


After AU

by nymphadoracrashedthetardis



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:42:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10029167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymphadoracrashedthetardis/pseuds/nymphadoracrashedthetardis
Summary: In one universe, Jake and Amy met in high school, went to prom blushing but hand in hand, dated happily, and broke up three years later.The same universe later brings them back together.Post- High School AU





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> What am I doing? Who knows. I had two other fics- oneshots- I was meant to be writing, but instead I did two and a half chapters of this, and planned out the rest of the story. 
> 
> C'est la vie, etcetc.

Jake Peralta’s favourite things about being a cop, in no particular order, included: the guns, the badge, the daily  _ Die Hard  _ references, and the annual Tactical Village day.

 

Sure, he had to make all the  _ Die Hard _ references himself, and sure, civilians usually weren’t as impressed by his badge or gun as he’d like them to be, but Tactical Village day remained pure and sweet. Jake explained this to Rosa Diaz, fellow cop, one day and she disagreed.

 

“The guns are still coolest.”

 

Charles Boyle was more supportive.

 

“If they knew you, they’d be more impressed by your badge and gun.”  _ They  _ were presumably the entire population of Brooklyn, or maybe all of New York, and as unlikely as it seemed, Jake did not argue.

 

But the morning of Tactical Village Day 2015 came sunny and crisp like it did last year, and the year before that, and every year since the dawn of time, probably, and not even Rosa could deny it was exciting. Terry was out in the parking lot, dressed in navy like everyone else, shooing the squad onto the bus, muttering about schedules and how  _ being late isn’t cool, guys _ . Jake raised his eyebrows at him as he climbed the steps of the bus and checked his watch. Four minutes after they were due to leave.  _ Right on time. _

 

Jake threw his duffel bag down into a window seat near the back and scooted in. There was a wad of gum stuck to the wall of the bus, and he scooched his bag away from it in disgust. Then Charles asked him the question he had been hoping to avoid since he left the bullpen.

 

“So what did Gina mean about finding you a wife?”

 

Jake had to fight to not roll his eyes. Gina’s actual words were,  _ keep that hair looking good or you’ll never find a wife, Jake, _ upon hearing that he was considering cutting it shorter. Her voice rang across the precinct as the squad left for the bus. Jake patted down his curls at the thought of it.

 

Gina was kidding, of course, she was hardly ever serious, but to answer Charles’ question, he would have to delve into his relationship with Sophia Perez, his failure relationship with Sophia, and his overall perpetual singleness, and he wasn’t about to do  _ that _ in any state close to sober. Of course, it would be a very bad idea to show up to Tactical Village Day inebriated, so Jake didn’t mention the pang he got in his stomach lately every time he so much as smelled hot wings.

 

(It had been diminishing with every time, but it was still there, to some extent.)

 

“She’s not trying to find me a wife. It’s Gina. She likes to tease. You know. I’m single again and she’s trying to keep me happy.”

 

Charles nodded. “Especially after the Sophia fiasco.”

 

“ _ Especially  _ after… Sophia,” So much for not bringing her up. “I should probably date only cops from now on.”

 

Rosa turned around in her seat and took her earphones out. “Are you planning on picking up girls at Tactical Village?”

 

“Oh yeah, I’m hoping to marry the first person to reach for the same gun as me.”

 

Rosa nodded once. “Sweet. Good conversation starter.”

 

Jake fiddled with his shirt sleeves and wished he was wearing his hoodie that day. It had been six weeks since Sophia had broken up with him, and he had yet to go on a post-Sophia date. He had a very suddenly clear view of  _ timing _ that somehow left him more confused than ever. The bus went over a bump on the road and he stared determinedly out at the sidewalk outside as Charles and Rosa talked until they reached the complex where the training was held.

 

Jake felt his shoulders begin to loosen up as he disembarked the bus and entered the main building to check in. They were not the first squad to arrive, and already there were small crowds starting to pool amongst the tables. Jake had met his fair share of cops during his time at the NYPD, and he could probably recognize most of them with no trouble, but with the sea of navy filling the building, every face that blurred by him could have been the same.

 

Jake threw his bag down on a table beside Terry and rummaged through it. Alongside his change of clothes, his kneepads, and his really cool fingerless gloves he was hoping would charm everyone into awarding him  _ coolest kill _ , Jake had packed a can of orange soda, but  _ where was it- _

 

“Jake? Jake Peralta?”

 

Jake’s fingers finally reached around the slightly cold can. Jake didn’t notice the woman standing in front of him until the spoke because, again,  _ sea of dazzling navy _ . But now she was in front of him, and her shirt was neatly ironed and her ponytail high and bouncy, and Jake’s stomach panged from a long-ago memory.

 

“Amy? Oh my god, hi.” Amy Santiago was in front of him and smiling widely, and he found himself mirroring her. Jake’s hands, now out of his bag, felt suddenly very useless, so he fiddled with his shirtsleeves for a moment before deciding to hug her.

 

(She still smelled lightly like flowers. Different flowers than before, sure, but still nice.)

 

Jake pulled away before he got too weird. Amy was still grinning, and she was fiddling with her own shirt sleeves. The sight was very familiar to Jake.

 

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

 

“Nor I you.” She looked older now, as Jake assumed he did too. The last time he saw her, it was wintertime and he was twenty one years old, and Amy still wore dark hoodies and blue eyeshadow every day. Her hair was a little longer now, and she had foregone the bright eyeshadow, but the crinkle in her eyes was the same when she smiled at him. The grinning was infectious; Jake smiled back.

 

“Who’s this, Jake?” Charles had come up next to them and was watching Amy curiously. 

 

She held her arm out primly. Charles took it. “Amy Santiago.”

 

“I’m Charles Boyle, nice to meet you.” Charles put his hands on his hips. “So, do you two know each other from the academy?”

 

Jake laughed lowly under his breath. “No, we know each other from high school.”

 

Charles made a face he probably thought was intriguing. “You knew a young Jake, then?”

 

“I knew him, yeah. Uh, we dated for a bit there, actually.”

 

Charles paused, then looked Amy up and down. “You were Jake’s first girlfriend?”

 

Amy briefly glanced at Jake. “Yeah, I was.”

 

“You’re not what I expected. I heard you were shorter.”

 

Jake stared at the wall behind Amy and willed for the Sarge to come over and tell them to stop wasting time. 

 

Amy shifted her feet, but her face was still split in a smile. “Oh, so he’s talked about me then?”

 

“Mainly heard about you through Gina. She called you Jake’s first heartbreak once.” Charles looked her up and down again.

 

Amy looked wary at that describer, but perked up at Gina’s name. “You know Gina?”

 

“She works with us.”

 

Amy looked from Jake to Charles in alarm. “Gina’s a cop?”

 

Jake laughed softly. “Oh god, no, who would be crazy enough to give her a gun? No, she’s our office administrator.”

 

Amy’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh, good, good. So, she’s going well?”

 

“Yeah, she’s doing great. Gunless, but great.”

 

“And you?” Amy asked Jake. “You’re doing well?”

 

Jake grinned. “Doing better now.”

 

Amy punched his shoulder and he pouted like it hurt.

 

* * *

 

Amy returned to her squad shortly after and Jake lost track of her in the mob. He instead followed Rosa into a break room to grab a cup of coffee. He watched her make a cup, stir in some cream until it was lukewarm, chug it down, and throw it out.

 

“Come on, we’re missing it.”

 

Jake waved for her to go on, and drank his still-hot cup in smaller sips. A series of large  _ bangs  _ came from down the hall, followed by loud whoops. Intrigued, Jake followed the racket echoing down the hall until he reached a larger room, filled with officers. He approached the crowd with his hands in his pockets and stopped just on the outside, close enough to see the new equipment they were trying out. Rosa was nowhere to be found, but Amy was another one of the stragglers outside of the circle, and smiled when she saw him approach. 

 

“You again.”

 

“Me again,” Jake said. “I bet you thought you’ve seen the last of me.”

 

Amy’s face froze for only a moment before she caught herself, but Jake noticed it and wished he hadn’t. He moved on quickly.

 

“But obviously, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other today. Because of work. Can’t avoid it. And that’s fine! You’re not a bad person to see.”

 

Amy’s brows were slightly raised in amusement. Jake silently applauded himself for the save. 

 

Down the crowd, an officer caught Amy’s eye, and was waving her over. Jake spoke without thinking in reaction to keep her attention.

 

“Hey, wanna come see something cool?”

 

Amy hesitated a moment, then nodded and followed Jake outside.

 

Jake didn’t know where he was going- not really. He only made a quick sweep of the premises before getting coffee, but he stopped by where he saw space sectioned off for handgun practice. Jake considered her for a moment, and did the only thing he know how to do with Amy: banter.

 

“I bet you five bucks I can hit those targets while sliding on my knees.”

 

“I thought you were going to show me something?”

 

“I thought I’d profit off it.” Jake rocked back and forth on his heels.

 

Amy looked back at the stretch of pavement between them and the targets.“Wouldn’t it hurt?”

 

“I have kneepads on. Long story. But I still bet you I can do it.”

 

Amy looked at his kneepads, then at the targets, then at Jake again. She nodded. “You’re on.” Jake extended his arm. “For ten bucks.” Jake thought about it, then nodded. They shook on it.

 

Jake took a few steps back, aligned himself with the target, then ran and fell to his knees in a slide. He didn’t slide far, the rough concrete stopping him a few inches in, but slide he did, and he hit his target still.

 

Jake turned back to Amy, grinning widely. Amy was frowning at the puncture parks in the target.

 

“Pay up, Santiago.” Amy looked at him for a moment, considering. Jake smirked at her, she narrowed her eyes at him.

 

“Ten bucks I can hit more targets with the net gun than you.”

 

“Do other officers count as targets?”

 

“No.” She looked serious in a way that make Jake’s stomach flip again. Jake shrugged. 

 

“Deal.”

 

* * *

 

 

Amy won, in the end, and she laughed about it all the way to lunch.

 

* * *

 

Amy’s low, familiar laugh remained, repeating, in Jake’s head into the lunch hour, and into the afternoon, and was still on constant loop during the training simulation. Her squad went in right before them, and she ran out yelling about a  _ perfect run _ and  _ record time _ , and the happy laugh only intensified in his head.

 

(Jake worked hard and the Nine-Nine got a perfect run, too, running just a few minutes longer than Amy’s squad, and Jake was sure to crow about it to her the moment they were out. Amy, in turn, looked like she was trying  _ very  _ hard to not smile at him. 

 

“Now you only have to win best kill, huh?” she teased.

 

“I never told you about that.”

 

“It’s very obvious.”

 

Later, when they’re on their not-date, she’ll tease him about it again, saying she’ll probably win best kill. He will glower and take one of her dumplings.)

 

But now, there were still at Tactical Village. Amy was heading back to her precinct with her squad, and Jake allowed himself a moment to watch her ponytail bounce away before he busied himself with his bag. He was parched, and he was pretty sure he bruised his elbow in the simulation, but his shoulders felt lighter than they have in weeks.

 

As they were packing up to leave, Rosa told him they’re all going out to celebrate their perfect run.

 

“That sounds great, but I’m actually meeting up with Amy in a couple of hours.” He tried to keep his voice light, and stressed his words in a childish way that usually made people ignore him, but he still caught Charles’ attention.

 

“Oh, really?” His voice was high-pitched again.

 

“It’s not- anything. We’re just catching up.”

 

Charles muttered something about  _ catching up in bed _ , but Jake ignored him and headed back to the bus.

 

* * *

 

 

It was meant to be a simple catch up over coffee, really, truly.  _ Sure _ , Jake had showered, and he combed his hair, but he figured it would be rude to meet with an old friend all sweaty. And  _ yes _ , he bought her a coffee  _ and _ a scone, but that was because he owed her ten bucks from losing their final bet earlier in the day. But it was never meant to be anything more than a simple catch up, even as he watched Amy’s hair shine under the warm cafe lights. Even as he was suggesting a late dinner, and even as he was leading her to a tablecloth clad table in a dim restaurant.

 

Even,  _ even _ as Amy was inviting him up to her place, since it wasn’t far and they were having so much fun catching up, anyways.

 

(Sure, Jake didn’t intend anything, but he sure as hell didn’t fight anything, either.)


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short lil chapter before we get into the bulk of the story. I'll hopefully have chapter 3 up within a week!
> 
> I read all of your lovely reviews just now- a little late, but you've all motivated me to work on the next sections now.
> 
> Special thanks to startofamoment for editing this (and catching my horrible grammar errors!).

The morning after Tactical Village Day, there was a hum over the precinct. The AC rattled in a muffled way that you only really normally noticed on night shifts, and no one chatted much over their paperwork. Jake slid into his desk - late again - with little more than a  _ good morning _ to the squad and booted his computer up. His eyes were unfocused as his screen lit up and his desktop popped up.

 

Jake had gotten _maybe_ four hours of sleep the night before, and sure, it may have been the best sleep he had gotten in ages (wrapped in what was quite possibly the warmest knit blanket in the _world_ ), it was still only four hours, and Jake was getting to that age where the dark circles under his eyes didn’t fade as easily. He made it back to his apartment in a daze and stumbled through a hurried shower. He did not have time to dry his hair, and he did not grab more than a bagel for breakfast from his fridge. Now, as he was getting to his desk, he could feel the light breeze of the air conditioning making his still-damp head cold. 

 

Jake glanced around to see if anyone would notice if he took the briefest of naps at his desk. In front of him, Gina was lazily scrolling on her phone in front of Captain Holt’s open door. Holt was nowhere to be seen.  In the desk behind him, he could hear Sarge rhythmically tapping his pen on his desk. Jake rested his head in his left hand and winced at the pressure on his elbow. He was still bruised from the day before, and he groaned softly before changing elbows. No one looked up, and the hum of the air conditioning carried on.

 

In short, it was a slow start for everyone at the Nine-Nine.

 

_ Almost. _ Charles, as usual, was more energetic than everyone else first thing in the morning. After Holt retreated to his office and shut the door, Charles came over to Jake’s desk.

 

“Hey Jakey,” his voice was high and pinched. He sat in the chair by the desk. “So, how was your not-date with Amy?” Jake shot him a look.

 

“It was good. Nice. It was nice to catch up.”

 

Charles’ eyes narrowed.

 

“Are you seeing her again?”

 

“Maybe. Yes. I don’t know.” Jake stared at Charles’ collar.

 

“Oh my god something happened.” Jake didn’t meet his eyes. “ _ Oh my god  _ you had sex.”

 

“Who did?” Gina looked up from her phone at her desk at the back.

 

“Jake had a date last night, and it went very well, evidently.”

 

“Oh, really?” Gina’s lips were pursed. Jake felt his face heating up.

 

“No it didn’t. It wasn’t.  _ How do you do that? _ ” he hissed at Charles. Charles shrugged.

 

“So you  _ won’t  _ be seeing her again?”

 

Jake glowered. “I didn’t say that.”

 

Gina actually put her phone down. “Wow, so who is this girl? Some femme fatale you met over handguns?”

 

“No.”

 

“Did you make out on a pile of bulletproof vests?”

 

“We did  _ not _ .”

 

Charles spoke up. “Actually, Jake here met with his high school sweetheart last night.”

 

Gina froze for a moment, and something unreadable flashed through her eyes. “You ran into Amy yesterday?” Her phone buzzed, but she ignored it.

 

“And last night.” Charles reminded her.

 

“Didn’t I tell you?” Jake said to Gina. Gina’s face was unreadable in a way that made Jake uncomfortable. “Amy was at Tactical Village yesterday. We went out for coffee to catch up. Then dinner. Then her place.”

 

“Huh.”

 

“That’s right, you knew Amy too, didn’t you?” Charles said. “What’s she like?”

 

“Pretty dorky.” Gina went back to her phone.

 

Charles turned back to Jake and shrugged again. Jake was staring at his reflection on his phone, trying to see if he, by any chance, had any hickies that tipped Charles off.

 

“Well, I hope you see her again. She seemed really nice.” He patted Jake’s shoulder once before returning to his desk.

 

Jake stared at his monitor, now asleep. The other night, Amy hung onto his words in a way he found quite nice. She looked as delighted as he felt. Before sleeping, they had spent hours under Amy’s knit and pastel collection of blankets, huddling to fend away the cold and giggling into the night. When Jake awoke early that morning - thanks to an alarm Amy had kindly set for him - she had walked him to the door wearing a fuzzy bathrobe. With his hand on the doorknob, Jake took Amy in for a moment. Her flyaways creating a faint halo over her head, hardly seen in the dim hallway light. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

 

Amy spoke instead. “You have my number?” Jake nodded. “You can call me. If you want to.” She gave him a half-smile, and Jake nodded again. He opened his mouth to speak, for real this time, but Amy was already opening the door and motioning for him to go through. He hugged her for a moment. She was warm. Then Jake left to quickly get ready for work again.

 

Charles, forever intuitive, was correct: Amy  _ was _ very nice.

 

Jake glanced at Holt’s door, still shut, and left his desk, swiping the first file he could find, and sped down the hall. Entering the evidence room, he gave it a quick sweep to make sure it was empty and fished his phone out of his pocket. In the harsh fluorescent lighting of the precinct, his finger marks showed starkly on the screen. Jake’s text messages with Amy were at the top of his messages list, and he tumbled over the little phone icon by her name. The phone rang and rang, and Jake held his breath.

 

_ “Hello?” _

 

“Hi.” Jake breathed. 

 

_ “Hi.” _ Amy repeated. There was a bit of noise in the background, but Amy made no move to hang up.

 

“I wanted to call.”

 

_ “I’m glad you did.” _

 

“Yeah?”

 

_ “Yeah.” _ There was a hint of a smile in her voice, and Jake felt his confidence growing.

 

“How’s your morning been?”

 

_ “Good.” _

 

“Good,” Jake paced further back into the evidence room. “Hey Amy?”

 

_ “Yeah?” _

 

“Can I see you again?”

 

Jake waited, one breath, two breaths, three-

 

_ “Yes.” _


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to startofamoment for putting up with my inability to comprehend basic paragraph structure.

Back before Jake and Amy ever dated, or kissed, or even held hands, they were friends. More than that - they were good friends. 

 

They met in English class in their first year of high school and bonded over how miserable they were - Jake because he didn’t like to read, and Amy because English class always ruined her favourite books for her. 

 

In mid-ninth grade, Amy officially joined Jake and Gina’s little friend group - much to Gina’s horror - creating a balance in their dynamic Jake didn’t know they needed until they were well into high school.

 

But anyways - they were good friends, and like good friends, they had their hobbies. This started with Jake, who insisted on regular movie marathons, but  _ only _ with his friends, and  _ only  _ surrounded by unhealthy snacks.

 

“I need to see your reactions firsthand, Ames,” he’d say. 

 

Then the marathons evolved the more serious Amy got about her studies.

 

“You already get good marks! You don’t  _ need  _ to study.”

 

“We’re in tenth grade now, Jake, I need to get serious!”

 

_ Then _ they had to fight for a compromise between Amy’s compulsions and Jake’s grand schemes, and thus, movie marathon slash study sessions were established.

 

They continued all the way through high school, past when Jake and Amy started dating, past when Gina got disgusted sitting by a cuddling couple all of the time, past Gina no longer joining them because she didn’t go to college and had nothing to study, anyways. They’d watch, and they’d work, and they had to fight Amy’s brothers to get the TV sometimes - but they never broke the habit. 

 

Then Jake and Amy broke up, and the movie marathons were abandoned altogether.

 

* * *

 

Even if they’d been apart for thirteen years, Jake wondered if it was  possible to casually date someone he previously dated. Because it wasn’t  like what they were doing was platonic - the heavy petting on his couch the other night was enough to attest to that. But they remained nothing more than Jake and Amy, friends; they didn’t make any plans more than a day in advance, and they didn’t even broach the topic of their breakup yet.

 

(Not that Jake minded. As much as he didn’t like the uncertainty of casual relationships, he very much liked Amy’s company, even all these years later. And if he could sit on Amy’s couch watching movies again, so be it.)

 

So, there Jake was, several weeks into a yet-undefined relationship, on edge not because of the thriller they were watching, but because of Amy sitting not two inches beside him. After a few scenes, Jake’s fingers began to twitch. He’d been able to kill so many good habits in the past - not to brag or anything - but this, with Amy -

 

Suddenly, memories of schoolwork weren’t so bad.

 

Jake had never been so aware of how much he moved when he sat, or breathed, and he could swear that if he so much as sneezed, Amy would ask him to leave and never come back.

 

(He had no evidence to support that, but that’s what it felt like.)

 

The movie went on. Amy squirmed. Jake tapped his foot. Amy crossed her arms. Jake cleared his throat.

 

It was Amy who  finally broke the silence.

 

“Do you wanna just make out?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

* * *

 

That’s where they were now. Over a month in, and Jake and Amy had been steadily - when their jobs allowed it - seeing each other. They had become acquainted with one another’s apartments, and they had gone out to eat enough times for Jake’s wallet to cry.

 

Amy, it turned out, was lately fascinated with bakeries selling very tiny, very finely decorated cakes.

 

“So, you really like cupcakes.”

 

“They’re not cupcakes. They’re very small cakes.”

 

After some pestering on his part - and a long declaration of his love for sweets that Amy rolled her eyes at - she finally agreed to take him to her favourite bakery, but only after he  _ swore _ he would stop teasing her.

 

“Your favourite? Geez, how often do you go out for cake?” he said with a laugh.

 

“You’re already breaking your promise, Jake.”

 

(He stopped teasing her about the cakes. The bakery with the lace doilies was another matter.)

 

“So,” Amy said that evening, cutting her fork through their shared cake. It was chocolate and raspberry - a compromise. “How did the case go?”

 

Jake hummed through his food. “Finally over. I can’t say too much, but I’ll give you a hint: the guy had a briefcase of something super illegal and was in a park doing something even more illegal.”

 

“Ooh, intriguing. How’d you track him down?”

 

“Stakeout. It was really boring, actually.”

 

Amy laughed lowly in agreement. Jake continued.

 

“I went out with the squad and Gina and everyone after to celebrate, though. That was nice. That’s why I couldn’t hang out the other night, sorry again.”

 

(What Jake didn’t mention was that as they were leaving for Shaw’s, Jake wanted nothing more than to text Amy and invite her along. He only got his phone out of his pocket when he stopped himself. They’d been seeing each other a lot lately, sure, but there was none of that easy closeness that was there  _ before _ , and Jake, on his part, knew better now not to rush.

 

Of course, if Amy made the first move towards a relationship, Jake wasn’t sure he wouldn’t respond in kind.)

 

“Oh, that’s okay. It’s not like we had plans or anything.” Amy smiled thinly. “So, how’s everyone?” 

 

There was a loud crash from the kitchen, like dishes being spilled into an empty sink, and Jake waited until it was over to reply.

 

“Mm, pretty good. Gina was mad at everyone for not inviting her out for lunch this week - in our defense, she had to work over lunch anyways - but whatever, she’s over it.” 

 

Amy was fiddling with a crumb on her cake with her fork, and Jake considered idly if he should have invited her, after all. She still hadn’t seen Gina since their reunion, and she’d probably like the squad, too. The dishes clattered again in the back. “How’s your squad doing?”

 

“Alright. You know. Tiring. We’ve had a lot of robberies this week.” 

 

The debit machine to Jake’s left beeped incessantly.“You’re a great team, I’m sure you can handle it.” 

 

Amy smiled at him. “Thanks. We’re all on day shifts for the next little while,  _ thank God _ , so we got lucky there, at least.”

 

“Aw, I’m on all nights for the next while. Guess we won’t really see each other.” 

 

Amy hummed and returned her attention to the cake. 

 

Jake’s stomach dropped. He was taken back to a similar scenario, almost three months ago, but instead of Amy in front of him, it was Sophia, and she would soon say he was getting too serious for her -

 

“Not that we have to see each other, of course. You’re not obligated to see me.” Amy hummed again. 

 

Jake’s heart rate was up. “I’m gonna go ask for some water, be right back.”

 

Jake got up, signaled for the cashier, and rested his weight on the counter. He tried to think of topics to bring the conversation back to life, but all he could think of was Amy’s downturned eyes. She had confided in him a few weeks ago about a relationship with another cop ending horribly and how hard it had been to date whilst in their positions. Jake agreed that yes, it was hard, and that was that with their conversation. And now he was jumping down her throat at any chance to see her.

 

_ Stupid. _

 

Jake had steeled himself by the time he returned to their table with two glasses in hand.“Grabbed you one, too.” 

 

Amy smiled at him and held the cup to her lips. Her pale lipstick left faint marks on the glass. She studied Jake for a moment before speaking.“Did I tell you what my downstairs neighbor did the other night?”

 

Jake’s shoulders relaxed. “The batty one? No, tell me.”

 

Amy smiled wider and started her story. Her hands moved animatedly as she spoke, and between nibbles of cake, Jake watched her hair shine under the bakery lights.

 

* * *

 

Adult Amy, Jake learned, did not make an any better patient than she did in her teen years. In the days when Jake was scheduled for his marathon of night shifts, Amy caught the sniffles, which grew into a proper illness, which culminated with her spending two full days in bed. Jake knew nothing of it until the tail end of  everything, when he invited her over and she declined him with a series of coughs. 

 

She never told him to stay away, though, so he packed up several packages of instant noodles and a 3-D puzzle and drove to her place.

 

(If he second-guessed himself and turned back once or twice, well, then no one needs to know.)

 

When Amy opened her front door wrapped in a blanket, the bag in Jake’s hand suddenly felt very heavy, and he became very aware that this was such an explicitly relationship-y thing to do and that it was probably unfair to dump this on her when she was so sick.

 

But then she was smiling and stepping aside to let him in, and Jake thought, maybe, there was something here.

 

* * *

 

Jake went straight for the kitchen when he entered Amy’s apartment.

 

“Hope you’re hungry, I brought the very best of instant soups.”

 

Amy smiled. “I am, actually. All I’ve had to eat for the past few days was toast.” She reached for her cutlery drawer and pulled out two spoons. Jake pointed at her.

 

“ _ No _ , you’re sick. Go sit and find us something to watch.”

 

“Bossy.” She left for her couch anyway.

 

Finding Amy’s dishes wasn’t difficult - she adhered to a system of organization that, quite frankly, was very predictable to Jake. Bowls and plates were in the cupboard above and just left of the kettle (“cupboard above the kettle is where all my mugs are, Jake, obviously _ , _ ” she had told him a few weeks ago). Jake smirked a bit at the mess in Amy’s sink - nothing but plates and mugs, and a pile of knives thinly greased in butter.

He flicked on her kettle and began rummaging through her drawers. For someone who could cook about four edible dishes, Amy had quite a collection of kitchenware. 

 

(Back in high school, she was adamant that she’d learn how to cook and become amazing at it, like she was at everything else. Gina only laughed at her.

 

“I swear I will.” Amy insisted.

 

Obviously, that didn’t pan out, but Jake had to applaud her persistence.)

 

Amy was still flipping through channels when Jake brought out the soups one bowl at a time.

 

“You still haven’t found anything?”

 

“Nope.” Her voice was still a little hoarse.

 

“Nothing’s on?”

 

“Well, I was going to watch  _ Jeopardy  _ before you got here-”

 

“Great! Let’s watch that.” He sat down on the floor in front of the coffee table. Amy stared at him.

 

“You hate  _ Jeopardy _ .”

 

“Yeah, but watching you watch it is fun.”

 

Amy made a face at him. “I’m pretty tired. I won’t be much fun to watch, unfortunately.”

 

Jake shrugged and tucked into his soup. “That’s fine.” 

 

Amy considered him for another moment before sliding down to the floor beside him. She handed him a blanket to match hers, and he smiled at her.

 

Amy was a little more tired this time around, and a little slower, but sometime after their second episode of  _ Jeopardy _ , it began again. A show Jake had never seen was on, their empty bowls of soup were abandoned on the coffee table, and Amy began braiding the fringe of her blanket into small plaits. She squirmed. Jake tapped his foot. Amy crossed her arms. Jake cleared his throat.

 

When his cell phone rang, Jake jumped to his feet so suddenly that Amy was startled.

 

“Sorry,” he said. In his hand, his phone was beeping incessantly. Amy waved him off. Jake took the call into the hallway.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hi, honey, it’s me.” His mother. She called to check in a couple of times a week, but they worked varying shifts for almost two weeks now and had hardly spoken

 

“Hey mom.”

 

There was always a formula to their phone conversations.  _ How are you, how’s work, what did you have for dinner.  _ Jake could rattle off the answers in his sleep.

 

“You know, I have a girl I’d like to set you up with.”

 

After the perfunctory questions, she’d always hit him with something surprising.

 

Jake glanced at Amy now fiddling around in the kitchen down the hall. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea right now.”

 

“Are you seeing someone?”

 

“Maybe? Kind of.”

 

“How can you ‘kind of’ be seeing someone? You either are or you aren’t.”

 

Jake groaned, softly as so Amy wouldn’t hear. “Listen, I gotta go. We’ll talk about it later.”

 

“Are you with them right now? Jacob, get off the phone immediately.”

 

“I’m trying to,” he muttered. “Okay, I’ll call you tomorrow, love you, bye.”

 

Not that his mother was right or anything, but she did voice the main question running through Jake’s head for the past month -  _ what were they doing? _ Jake squared his shoulders, held his head high, and headed for the kitchen to ask Amy precisely that.

 

His resolve broke when he took in Amy’s glassy eyes and shaking coughs. Jake thought for a moment, pausing to count the plaits in Amy’s blanket fringe -fifteen!

 

“Hey, so, I found this really cool puzzle at the back of my closet and brought it with me. It’s like, a really old castle or something.” His voice trailed off as Amy nodded enthusiastically. 

 

“Let’s do it.”

 

As he helped Amy organize the pieces by colour, questions lingered at the back of Jake’s mind. They were going to have to talk sooner or later.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made an oath to myself before writing this that I would not add needless drama to this story, and I intend to keep it. Stay tuned, they won't be uncertain forever.


	4. Chapter Four

It had been less than a week since Jake decided to talk to Amy about their capital-R Relationship. They had seen each other once since then, and the colour had returned to Amy’s cheeks in a way he found quite pretty. They had finally finished the monstrosity that was the 3-D puzzle (Alhambra, built in thirteenth century Spain, and it was a palace,  _ not _ a castle, because apparently, there was a difference. Jake didn’t care much, but Amy was enthusiastic, so he let her talk.).

 

So the puzzle was done, Amy was better, and there was nothing preventing Jake from starting The Talk. But then, sitting on his couch facing her, he opened his mouth and had no idea what to say.

 

“Like, what do I even say? How do I start?” he later asked his mom.

 

“Honey, I don’t know this person. It’s going to have to be genuine and come from you.” Jake groaned. He hadn’t told Karen it was Amy he was seeing because,  _ obviously _ , he didn’t want to jinx anything, but her sage wisdom was lacking without the specifics. “Maybe write everything you want to say down beforehand,” Karen continued. “It might help organize your thoughts.”

 

Jake rolled his eyes at the very thought of writing something down, but agreed with her anyway, and silently vowed to not do anything else.

 

The following day at work, Jake found himself in a lull and reached for a pen and paper. 

 

He scribbled down two obscene pictures and one very small, very furry bunny - unassociated with the former - before he tossed the paper in the bin and opened a Word document instead. When Charles came over to talk to him, not long after, the document was still blank, and the blinking cursor was beginning to taunt Jake. 

 

Charles sat in the vacant seat next to his desk. “So, you’ve been seeing Amy for a while now, huh? When are we all gonna meet her properly?”

 

Jake turned slightly in his chair and tightened his jaw. “I don’t know if you will meet her.”

 

“Why not? You  _ are _ still seeing each other, right?” Charles leaned back slightly in his seat. “What did you do, Jake?”

 

Jake glared at him. “ _ Nothing _ . We are still seeing each other. Just not… officially.”

 

“Why the hell not? Make your intentions clear! Date her properly!” Charles admonished him.

 

“I don’t know, it feels… not the same as before.”

 

“I can tell you why: because you’re not twenty, and you’re not even properly dating. Rejoin each other’s lives, plan your futures, and then come back to me.”

 

“You just want me to do this so you can meet her.”

 

“Absolutely. And if it solves your relationship problems in the meantime, so be it.”

 

The cursor continued blinking on the screen. “I’m planning on talking to her soon, so if that goes well, and she agrees to be my girlfriend, I’ll bring her to Shaw’s first chance I get,” Jake promised him. “Plus, Gina will probably want to see Amy again, too. Right Gina?”

 

Gina, who was listening in again from her desk, considered it for a second. “Mmm, no.”

 

Jake rolled his eyes and turned back to Charles. “She’s excited.”

 

“Okay. Talk to her, date her, be with her forever.”

 

“ _ If _ she agrees.”

 

Charles made a disinterested hum. “She will.”

 

* * *

 

Back when they were in high school, before Jake grew up, before Amy learned how to manage her anxiety, exam days were a mess. In the week leading up to any major test, Jake would loudly announce that testing was morally unjust and that he really didn’t need school, anyway. Gina would flounce around and say everything was too easy. Amy would waste a solid two days worrying instead of working.

 

In some way or another, they’d all somehow end up studying together. Piled onto somebody’s bed, Amy would teach, Jake would take bad notes, and Gina would use different coloured pens for every topic for hers. It was all routine.

 

(Another routine was calming Amy down before a big test. Her anxiety was inconsistent; it popped up at varying times, in varying symptoms, and sometimes failed to show up at all. Jake would sometimes hold her hand and always tell her jokes, and Gina became very good at finding her hiding in bathroom stalls and convincing her to come out.

 

They made a good team.)

 

Later, when Jake was in the academy and more stressed out than he’d ever been in his life, he’d remember Amy’s breathing techniques with only a pang of sadness and use them to calm himself back down.

 

He didn’t use them much, anymore, but the familiar mantra of  _ one two three in, four five six out _ involuntarily entered his head as he sat on Amy’s couch one afternoon, waiting for her to come out of the kitchen with their coffees. One of her ancient clocks  _ ticked _ in the background and threw off his counting. He tried again.

 

When Amy returned, steam from their drinks making her look unfairly ethereal, Jake’s heart rate jumped back up and he fell back to his own brand of anxiety coping:  _ avoidance. _

 

* * *

 

 

Jake was never good at  _ feelings _ and  _ talks  _ and  _ stuff _ , so he kept his small typewritten list in his back pocket as a reminder every time he met up with Amy. He never pulled it out, and eventually it was lost in the wash, curdled in soggy pulp.

 

(He would look stupid pulling out a list in the middle of a serious discussion, though, so maybe it was for the best.)

 

And it wasn’t like having that list around actually caused a Talk to happen.

 

There was one evening he was really, truly, fully prepared to talk, and he wasn’t about to get distracted by Amy’s hair or hands or voice. They were in a restaurant, quiet enough to be relaxed but loud enough so they could speak freely, and he was loosened up by a wine he didn’t know the name of, and then the waiter came and brought her the wrong dish, and everything was flipped upside down. 

 

(Amy, truth be told, said she really didn’t care about the mix up, and that her mistake pasta was surprisingly good, but  _ still _ . He couldn’t dump a heavy conversation on her after  _ that _ .)

 

Then there was that time Amy didn’t sleep much for days during a big case, and he didn’t even have the heart to invite her out after hearing her sleep addled speech.

 

And  _ then _ there was the time Jake had a sore throat and didn’t want to talk much, anyway. They went to the movies, and Amy bought him a package of Halls alongside his bag of candy. He bought her a cup of frozen yogurt loaded with chocolate and peanut butter. They sat in the back and whispered to each other, and Jake wondered, if it came to it, how on earth he’d be able to give this up.

 

* * *

 

Amy invited him over to bake cookies later that week. When she opened her door to let him in, Jake eyed her soft black sweater.  _ Baking, my foot. _

 

Which is why he was so surprised when Amy went straight for her kitchen and pulled out a bag of chocolate chip cookie mix from her cupboard. Jake shrugged his sweater off,  hung it up on her coat rack, and watched in mild bemusement as she began tearing her kitchen apart.

 

“Thought you’d prefer chocolate over oatmeal.” Amy said, tearing the packet open.

 

“You thought right.” Jake stood uselessly  as Amy pulled out a mixing bowl and utensils. Her hands were shaking a little.

 

“It says we need two large eggs, but mine are pretty small. Should we use three? Or add some extra milk - ”

 

Jake smirked at her. “They’ll be fine. The egg’s just there to stick it all together.”

 

“I’ve got some honey, that’s sticky - ”

 

Jake stood by her and toyed with the hem of her sweater. It was already dusted in the cookie mix. “You’re such a bad baker.”

 

Amy laughed shakily and tilted her head up to meet his eyes. She took a breath. “Jake, I didn’t really invite you over to bake cookies.”

 

Jake wrapped his arm around her waist. “Coulda fooled me,” he said into her hair.

 

Amy pushed him away gently. “Jake, no, not that. I think we need to talk.”

 

_ What - _

 

“I’m gonna talk, and I’m gonna say it all at once, and I need you to listen, okay? Or else I’ll lose my nerve.”

 

Jake nodded. His stomach was twisting itself into an unsolvable tangle. His list flashed through his mind, and he mentally kicked himself for not bringing it up first. Amy cocked her head towards her kitchen table, and Jake took a seat. Amy scooted her chair towards him until their knees were almost touching.

 

“Look. Jake, I really like you, and I’ve been having so much fun with you, but our last breakup was so hard on me. I don’t know if I can go through it again. So, if you’re looking for something casual here, I think we should break it off now.” She bit her lip between her teeth and looked at him in a way that made Jake want to look away. He felt odd, like he just found himself on the wrong side of a counter and was seeing the world from a new angle.

 

“So, you don’t want anything casual,” he repeated.

 

“Right.”

 

“And that breakup was rough.”

 

“It really was.”

 

“And you’d like to break this off before it gets that bad again.”

 

“Essentially, yes.”

 

Jake was having trouble keeping her steady gaze. “What if- what if I don’t want anything casual either?”

 

Amy’s eyes searched his. “Don’t you?”

 

“I’ve been trying to bring this… talk up, but I kept putting it off. But, if you wanted to, I’d totally like to date you again. For realsies.”

 

Amy considered him. “You do know what I mean, though, don’t you? We broke up last time because we didn’t want to start hating each other. I still don’t want that. If we do this, I want to go all in.”

 

“I want that, too,” he breathed.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Oh,” Amy’s face softened. “Okay.” Jake bumped her knee softly with his and Amy smiled. 

 

“You know, that breakup was hard for me, too,” Jake said after a moment. “It took me, like, weeks to remember how I used to work out my problems without talking to you.”

 

Amy sighed quietly. “Me too.”

 

“You know, Gina was pissed as hell at you for like a week after we broke up.”

 

Amy made a face. “I know. She came straight to my house to tell me how much you cried.”

 

“I cried  _ a little _ ,” Jake insisted.

 

“Uh huh. Anyways, we went out for lunch and we talked it out.”

 

Jake traced her denim-clad knee with his thumb. “I’m glad it didn’t ruin your friendship.”

 

“Actually, I haven’t seen her since that day.”

 

“You didn’t keep in touch?” Amy shook her head. “I thought Gina didn’t mention you to spare my feelings or something.”

 

“No. I didn’t want her to choose between us, and she’d choose you, obviously, but I didn’t want her to feel bad about it, so I just… let that friendship fizzle out. She called a couple of times, but we never talked for long.”

 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Jake really was. There was once a time when Gina was wary of Amy, but she got over it within weeks. It wasn’t long before she was inviting herself over to Amy’s after school and dragging her out to get pizza with them. “You know, if you want to see her again, you can come out to the bar with the squad one night,” Jake continued. “I’m sure she’d like that.”

 

Amy smiled softly. “Yeah?”

 

“Of course. Plus, Charles already said he wants to meet you properly.”

 

Amy’s smile widened. “Aw, you talk about me at work?” she teased.

 

“Only the appropriate amount.” Amy took his hand and toyed with his fingers for a moment, then grasped it more firmly and made to get up, his hand still in hers. Jake kept her sitting. He swallowed. “Hey, Ames?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Jake’s mouth was a bit dry. They could move on in the moment and revel in their contentment, but there was so much he thought about in the last thirteen years that he never vocalized. 

 

“I don’t want what happened before either,” he said. “I don’t want to go, like, weeks without seeing each other and always fighting when we do. That near the end, it really sucked.”

 

“We know better now,” Amy reassured him. “Plus, we’re both cops now - we’re in the same boat again.” 

 

“Like in high school.”

 

“Like in high school.”

 

The knot in Jake’s chest loosened a bit, but there were more questions on his list, more things he didn’t think he could wait to find out, and the words bubbled up in a jumbled mess before he could second guess them.

 

“Do you regret breaking up?” he asked.

 

“I’m glad we got here now,” Amy said slowly. Jake raised his brows pointedly. She continued, “No, I don’t regret it. We needed the time apart.”

 

Jake nodded. “I know I was a bit clingy before - ”

 

“You weren’t clingy, we hardly got to see each other,” Amy was quick to correct him. “You were the reason we ever saw each other in the end.”

 

The corner of Jake’s mouth quirked up. “I did plan some pretty cute dates back then.”

 

“You did. And they were so much fun.”

 

The unbaked cookie mixture still stood on the counter, probably congealing, but neither of them stood. “So what now?” Jake asked.

 

“Another one of those cute dates? I promise to be fully present this time around.”

 

“Well, there’s that calligraphy exhibit opening soon. Wanna go?” He had seen the posters for it the other day, and the event sounded so  _ Amy _ that his chest swelled up as he snapped a photo of one of them on his phone.

 

“Absolutely.”

 

Jake was smiling so hard he thought his face might split open.

 

“So,” Amy grinned back. “Our talk is done.”

 

“Hmm, that it is.”

 

“How about we head over to my room now?” Amy was playing with the hem of Jake’s shirt.

 

Jake hesitated. “Actually, can we finish the cookies first? I kinda want chocolate now.” Amy rolled her eyes but didn’t protest. 

  
  



	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These past few weeks: ????  
> This chapter: ????
> 
> It's an odd time of year.

**Jake [10:16am]:** hey take ur lunch at 12:30 k

 

**Amy [10:21am]:** Why?

 

**Jake [10:22am]:** no reason. also come to the park near your precinct then

 

**Amy [10:31am]:** ????

 

**Jake [10:35am]:** <3 <3 <3

 

That was that morning, typed up as Jake was brushing his teeth. Now, just five minutes before he was due to meet Amy, he was on his way to the park, arms laden with groceries. He stopped by a shop for hot food, hungry, and went a bit overboard. The plastic handles of the shopping bags dug into his hands, and Jake made small, quick steps to an empty picnic table in the sun. He eyed a nearby group heading in the same direction.

 

_ Oh no they don’t.  _

 

Jake shuffled to the table, sneakers sloshing lightly against the damp grass. He stiffly tossed the bag in his right hand up on the table to claim it, and threw the other one down at his feet.

 

“Ha!”

 

Amy arrived a few minutes after her lunch started because,  _ of course _ , she could not in good conscience skive off work a couple of minutes early. Jake didn’t bring a tablecloth or dishes, but he remembered napkins and the sturdy plastic forks Amy preferred. She eyed the steam floating out the tops of the styrofoam containers as she approached.

 

“Aw, you did this for me?”

 

Jake grinned and stood to kiss her. “How else would I spend my day off?” Amy smiled and hid her face behind a curtain of hair as she sat down. 

 

“Hey, so I have a proposition for you,” Jake said after he sat across from her. Amy draped a paper napkin over her lap and leaned in to listen.

 

“A proposition? Ooh, what?”

 

Jake traced the rough edge of the picnic table bench with his thumbs. “Are you busy next Friday night? The squad and I were gonna go to the bar after work, and I thought it would be fun if maybe you came with us.”

 

Amy looked him straight in the eye. “You want me to meet your friends?”

 

“Well, yeah. I mean, you already know Gina, and you’ve met Charles, briefly, so this isn’t like you meeting  _ all _ of my friends or anything-”

 

“Calm down, Jake, of course I’ll come. I’d love to meet your squad.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Of course.”

 

Jake only felt a lightness in his core. He didn’t tell her how the people at the hot food section at the grocer’s cooed at him as he explained his picnic date plans that morning, or how they threw in a few extra bread rolls, just for the sake of it. Or, how he referred to her as his  _ girlfriend _ every time he would just because he liked the way it rolled of his tongue. Jake didn’t mention any of it, but he watched Amy blush for a moment longer than necessary, just because.

 

There was a soft breeze as they ate. The sun and the crisp air encouraged Jake’s appetite, and he munched his way through a container of ravioli as Amy recounted her day.

 

“And  _ then _ he said that’s just the way cases are going to be assigned from now on, and that I should just learn to deal.” Amy’s precinct was undergoing a command change after their old captain retired. A firm man with a strong sense of control over his precinct gave way to a commanding officer with little experience and even less tolerance for the day to day problems of a precinct. He was flighty, he was rash, and he now had an enemy in Amy Santiago.

 

“Maybe you and the other detectives can team up and talk to him,” Jake suggested. “Like, not a mutiny, just… pressure him a little.”

 

Amy hummed. “Oh, we did that this morning. We got our Sergeant involved and we marched in, ready to argue.” She grinned. “It was terrifying.”

 

Jake watched her as she dipped a piece of her roll into her cup of butternut squash soup. There was once a time when she would never even argue against a teacher because they were  _ superior  _ to her. She would sit, and falter, and come up with a witty argument three hours after the fact, but never do a thing.

 

The corners of Jake’s mouth tugged up.  _ My god, this woman. _

 

* * *

 

Amy insisted at their picnic that she wasn’t nervous to meet the squad. She reiterated it again over the phone the next night, saying that the older she got, the less pressure she put on social situations.

 

Still, Jake was not surprised to see her on his doorstep two nights later with a tote bag and a pint of ice cream. 

 

“I need you to quiz me.”

 

Jake was bemused. “Alright.”

 

The ice cream, it turned out, was chocolate and had chunks of brownie in it. Amy’s tote bag had a binder.

 

“I did a bit of research on your squad, and I think I know exactly what to say to get them to like me, but I need to know  _ for sure-for sure, _ so I need you to tell me if my intel is right or not.” She threw her bag down on his couch and got comfortable. Jake went into the kitchen to get some spoons and bowls for the ice cream.

 

“Go right ahead, babe.”

 

“Okay, firstly, I found Charles’ blog. I have no idea what he’s talking about most the time, but I figured that if I just talk about weird and/ or fancy food he’ll like me, right?”

 

“That’s pretty much what we do, yeah.”

 

“Okay good. Next, I did some digging and found out that your Sargeant has a soft spot for yogurt, and-”

 

Jake poked his head out of the kitchen. “Hold up, how did you find that out?”

 

“Rookie cops are always sucking up to commanding officers! They know everything,” she turned a page in her binder. “It’s good to know my sources are correct. Anyways, I’m not sure, but I _think_ I found your friend Rosa’s etsy store. Does she make jewelry?” 

 

Jake watched Amy flip through her binder. She had been furiously determined the whole time he’d known her. The flash of fire in her eyes reminded him of being fourteen and Amy inviting herself to eat lunch with his friends in an attempt to win them over. Jake never minded - hell, he encouraged her - but the way Gina calmly ignored her every day told him she did.

 

* * *

 

 

From the beginning, Jake had the tiniest, most obvious of crushes on Amy Santiago - who was the first of his friends brave enough to get contacts, who smiled widely whenever someone praised her, who asked for her parents’ permission on just about everything. He told Gina all about her in their second week of grade nine.

 

“I don’t know, she sounds kinda boring,” she said.

 

And so Jake started inviting Amy to every group gathering to prove Gina wrong. Unfortunately, Amy had not yet learned to work well under pressure.

 

It was a rough couple of months.

 

If Gina didn’t care about Amy before, by midterms she actively disliked having her around.

 

“She’s spineless, Jake! She agrees with everything I say, even though she  _ obviously  _ doesn’t mean it.”

 

“She’s probably afraid of you. She’s really trying.”

 

“If she wants to be my friend, tell her to just  _ act _ like it.”

 

Jake didn’t know how to bring it up to Amy. They were friends, sure, but he was still working himself up to the stage where he could show up at her house unannounced on weekends. He was pretty sure calling Amy spineless would change all of that.

 

Amy questioned him anyway.

 

“Does Gina not like me?”

 

“Whaaat? What makes you say that?”

 

“I’ve been trying so hard to be her friend, but nothing’s working.”

 

“Maybe that’s the problem. You shouldn’t have to try so hard to be someone’s friend.”

 

“Are you saying I should give up?”

 

“ _ No _ , not that. You can’t be my friend and not be friendly with GIna. And I want you to be my friend.”

 

“Aw.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“But really, what should I do? Exist around her and hope that a friendship just happens?”

 

“Yeah? Maybe. Or do something with her that she really enjoys.”

 

Amy snapped her fingers. “I’ll join her dance troupe.”

 

Jake blinked. Images of Amy’s celebration-dance after last week’s math test flashed through his mind. “Maybe just start with going to one of her shows,” he said gently.

 

So Amy tagged along with Jake to Gina’s next dance recital a few weeks later. She was toying with the hem of a loose black turtleneck as Jake walked up to their meeting place, their connecting bus stop. Even in the low autumn light, she looked worried.

 

“Do I look artsy enough?” She asked.

 

“Erm, I’m not sure artsy is the look they’re going for.”

 

The dance recital - if you could call it that - was held in the basement of Gina’s troupe member’s cousin’s house.

 

“Are you sure you didn’t send me down here to kill me?” Amy asked as they walked down a carpeted flight of stairs. The descending walls were lined with photographs of the family, none of whom she had ever met.

 

“I didn’t, but I’m not sure Gina didn’t.”

 

In the basement, there were lawn chairs, bean bag chairs, and a couch arranged in a semicircle around a clearing of carpet. The main lights were off, and two standing lamps lit the space.

 

Jake and Amy sank into the seat and a half still left on the couch. Jake was shoulder to shoulder between Amy and a girl with an eyebrow piercing. 

 

“I didn’t know so many people attended these,” Amy muttered to Jake. There were about ten other people crowded into the space.

 

“Most of us are coerced into it.” 

 

Amy hummed in agreement. She pulled out a tiny notebook from her crossbody bag.

 

“ _ Gina’s Dance Recital _ ?” Jake read aloud. “Are you taking notes on this?”

 

“Well, I don’t know that much about dance, and I need to be prepared in case she asks me about it.”

 

The show started in a haze of artificial smoke that didn’t dwindle as the dancing went on, and that became almost unbearable by the end. Two people were almost whacked in the face by a swinging leg. Amy kept diligent notes in her neat printing. Jake wondered if Gina’s troupe would ever pick better dance music.

 

Gina sought them out after the show, cheeks flushed and hair a little matted. Jake and Amy were stretching their legs at the back, sipping on juice boxes handed to them by a troupe member. Jake handed Gina a daisy he picked on the way over.

 

“Great job, G, one of your best yet.”

 

She took the daisy. “Thanks, boo.”

 

“I really enjoyed it too, Gina,” Amy said. “Good work.”

 

“Really?” Gina’s voice was flat. “Didn’t really take you for a dance aficionado. What was your favourite part?”

 

Amy flipped through her notebook. “Well, first off, your lighting set the tone well. And you used your space well, really uh, pushing the boundaries-”

 

Gina snatched the pad from Amy. “You took notes?” 

 

Amy nodded and tried to take the book back. 

 

Gina kept flipping through it. “ _ Off rhythm at times, should work at dancing as a group _ ?”

 

Amy faltered. “Again, I’m no expert, so I could be missing something.”

 

“No, this is great. You just wrote our first review! Can I keep this?”

 

“Of course. Take it.”

 

Within a week, Gina was inviting Amy out herself. Amy, everytime, was nothing if not tenacious. 

 

_ She’ll be fine. _

 

* * *

 

 

At the precinct later that week, Jake was halfway through a marathon paperwork session when his fingers began to cramp up just the slightest bit and his eyes began to lose focus, a moment that meant one thing:  _ snacktime _ . He had buried a cheesecake Jello cup deep in the kitchen fridge specially for a moment like this.

 

Jake’s back cracked uncomfortably as he stood, and he groaned. Falling asleep in a sitting position on his couch was probably the worst idea he had all week. Stretching his arms above his head, he walked to the kitchen, where Gina was emptying the contents of the fridge in a huff. Rosa was leaning against the counter, watching her.

 

“Where. Is. My. Pudding.”

 

“Someone take your food, Gina?” he rummaged through the cutlery drawer for a teaspoon. Gina growled at him.

 

“Some  _ idiot _ took my chia seed pudding. And that  _ someone  _ better delete my number because our friendship is  _ over _ !”

 

Rosa stared at her. “Wow.”

 

Jake poked his head in between them. “Say, is my Jello still in there?”

 

Gina looked into the fridge and glowered. “Yes.” She handed the conjoined cups to Jake, and he tore one open. He handed the other to Gina. 

 

“Hey, so are you guys still coming out tonight?”

 

“Sure,” Rosa said. “Why are you so insistent that we come, anyways?”

 

“No reason. Stuff.”

 

She stared at him for a second.

 

“Ugh, fine, I’ll tell you.”

 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

 

“No, no, you wore me down, Rosa. So Amy, my sorta new sorta not new girlfriend, is stopping by tonight, and I really want you all to meet her.”

 

“Your new girlfriend? Sure, I’ll be there.”

 

“And you, Gina? You’re the main attraction. She really wants to see you again.”

 

“Mmm, if I have nothing better going on tonight.”

 

Rosa looked her up and down. “She’ll be there,” she told Jake.

 

* * *

 

  
  


Amy arrived at the bar that night as Jake’s first drink was beginning to run low. Her hair was down and her work blazer abandoned, but she still looked so much like a cop and so in place at Shaw’s that Jake had to smile.

 

He was still getting used to Amy in her dream job.

 

Only Rosa was sitting with him when Amy came to them.  Jake spotted Amy as she entered through the cramped doorway.

 

“Amy’s here, be cool,” he warned Rosa.

 

“When aren’t I?”

 

“Shh. Hey, babe!” he called out to Amy. Amy spotted his waving arm and walked over. 

 

“Hey.” she gave him a quick kiss. Rosa looked on, sipping her drink.

 

“You find the place okay?”

 

“I did, yeah.” Amy shrugged her coat off and hopped up onto a stool. She turned to Rosa and held out her hand. “I’m Amy, nice to meet you.”

 

Rosa nodded, then took her hand. “Rosa Diaz.”

 

Jake smiled. He took the nod, the handshake, and the usual monotone to mean Rosa approved.  _ One down, six to go. _

 

* * *

 

When Charles and Terry returned with the appetisers, Jake had just enough time to take his baskets of fries, wings, and chicken nuggets before Charles was hugging Amy and announcing that he just had to  _ take her in _ .

 

“You’ve met before, bud.”

 

“Not as your new paramour.” 

 

Beside them, Rosa groaned and slipped off her stool before heading towards the bathrooms. Jake nodded.

 

“Okay, gross, gross,” he said. “So, that’s Charles, and this is Terry, our Sargeant.”

 

Terry shook Amy’s hand instead of hugging her. “Nice to meet you, Amy. Jake’s told us a lot about you.”

 

“Likewise.”

 

“So help yourself to anything here, Amy,” Charles said. “We’ve got fries, and wings- hot and medium, because we didn’t know what kind you liked- and the nuggets are Jake’s but he’ll probably share since he likes you so much-”

 

“Aw, thanks. I actually brought something as well.”   
  


“You brought food to a bar?” Jake said, amused.

 

“A snack, actually. Have you ever had- yogurt covered pretzels?” She pulled out a container from her giant purse.

 

“I love yogurt!” 

 

“And you got the expensive kind!”

 

_ Nice _ , Jake mouthed at her. Amy shrugged lightly and put the plastic container of pretzels on the table beside everything else.

 

_ Three down.  _

 

Jake’s head turned as he searched the bar. “So, where did everyone else go?”

“I think Hitchcock and Scully left after one drink. And Holt says he probably won’t come by.”

_ Perfect run! _

 

“Oh! So I guess this is all you’re meeting today,” Jake said to Amy. 

 

“And Gina,” Charles said.

 

“Who she’s met, so I’m not worried there.”

 

Terry’s face scrunched up. “You were worried about her meeting us?”

 

“Yeah, no offense but you guys can be weird,” Jake said. He turned to Amy. “Want me to get you a drink? I need to freshen mine up.” He shook his empty glass. 

 

“Sure. Surprise me?”

 

“Got it.” Terry also handed him his glass on his way back, and Jake rolled his eyes, but took it nonetheless. He ordered his drinks- a new beer for Terry, another scotch for him, and a slightly fancier scotch for Amy.

 

“The bartender gave me a tray because, not to brag, he didn’t think I could carry these here myself,” Jake called as he returned to the table. He slid the tray onto the edge of the table. “Oh, Gina’s finally here. Hey, Gina! Gina!” Jake waved his arms at Rosa and Gina, who were finally retreating from the back. Rosa slid back into her seat with little more than a nod. 

 

“You remember Amy?”

 

Amy slid off her stool, smiling widely. She stepped forward, opening her arms for a hug.

 

Gina took a look at Amy, then at her open arms, then back at everyone else.

 

“No.”

 

And walked away.

 

Amy stood with her untouched drink, gaping. Jake took a long swing of his.

 

_ One left to go. _

  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Returning after about a hundred years: Ela, with a new chapter.

It was eleven thirty the morning after Gina snubbed an eager Amy in front of all of Jake’s friends, and Amy was yet to get out of bed.

 

Jake himself enjoyed the occasional lie-in, that much was obvious to everyone who knew him. It was an integral part of his personality. After he moved into his first apartment, the one his nana left him, he’d insist on having Amy over on nights they were both free.

 

“We’ve been denied sleepovers all these years because we were living with our parents, Amy.”

 

“So we’re making up for lost time here, is that what you’re saying?” Amy once asked him on the third evening in a row she was staying over. She was keeping up with her coursework, and she did two shifts at work in the meantime, but her parents were not happy about her spending that much time at her boyfriend’s place.

 

“Yes, I have two years of lying in bed until noon with you to catch up on.”

 

“Ten.”

 

“Eleven.”

 

“Ten thirty.”

 

She would never stay in bed past eleven without a fight.

 

And now here they were, the morning after the snub. Jake wanted,  _ really really wanted _ , to return to that same level of comfort that they had before, the one that allowed him to ask his girlfriend to say over for days on end without the feeling of unease he had now. Hell, he’d been trying to figure out how to get her to have a lie-in with him without sounding needy.

 

Turns out, abject humiliation was one (awful) way. 

 

“Hey, Amy? You alive?”

 

A groan beneath Jake’s blue and white pile of sheets was the only indication that she was.

 

“It’s eleven thirty. What is it you always say, that the day is already technically half over?”

 

The pile of sheets twitched, but Amy said nothing.

 

“Don’t you want breakfast?”

 

Amy’s head peeked out from under the blankets. The dregs of her makeup were smudged under her eyes.

 

“What I want is for Gina not to hate me anymore,” she said.

 

Gina’s stoic face from the night before flashed through his mind. Jake took a breath. “Okay, first off, no one said anything about  _ hating _ you.”

 

“Her eyes said it.”

 

“ _ Oh _ -kay.” Jake felt around on the bed for where Amy’s body was and he sat down next to her, legs curled under him. “You know, she won’t be like this forever. We’ll figure out what’s wrong and you guys will hug it out and be best friends again.”

 

Amy still said nothing. Jake stroked little circles on her exposed forearm. “What if we got a legal pad and brainstormed our way out of this?”

 

Amy scoffed. “You have a legal pad somewhere in this apartment?” Her voice was muffled by the blankets.

 

Jake frowned. “No, but I do have scrap paper and pens that  _ probably _ still work.”

 

Amy sat up. “Deal.”

 

Her hair was matted and stuck up at impossible angles, but Jake bit his tongue. There was something endearing about the look, and he didn’t want it to go away.

 

* * *

 

They came up with a List of Ways to Win Gina Linetti Over in bed over coffee and toast. Amy was uncharacteristically discouraged, but Jake talked her ear off until she agreed to take the list home and hang it on her fridge.

 

(The fridge part was Amy’s idea. Weirdo.)

 

Still, there was a heavy weight deep in Jake’s core as he rose in the elevator on his way up to the bullpen on Monday morning.

 

Gina was sitting at her desk, where she was most mornings when Jake arrived. She got most of her work done when no one was watching, strangely enough. Jake didn’t notice a thing - assuming she got through her job on minimal effort and thinly veiled death threats - until Holt pointed it out one day. Gina was mortified, meaning she looked another person’s slightly abashed, and Rosa thought it was hilarious. Jake just racked his brain for times he ever saw Gina work on anything.

 

So Gina was already there that morning. It was late enough in her shift that her major work was put away and her phone was out. She was scrolling with one finger as she twirled her pen in the other. Jake sat at his desk with his jacket still on, watching as Gina would take a break from her phone every so often to make a few marks on the file before her.

 

“Morning, boo, no need to stare,” she called out to him without looking up. Jake startled slightly. The List of Ways to Win Gina Linetti Over flashed through his mind. It was planned, doable, almost foolproof. 

 

But Gina and Amy were friends  _ before. _ There had to be another way.

 

“Hey, Gina, sorry, I was just - staring out into space. I’m - actually -” he shrugged his coat off and threw it over his seat. One of the arms was turned inside out, but Jake didn’t notice - he was already exaggeratingly tip-toeing over to Gina’s desk. He perched himself at the side of the table, making a precariously tall stack of files wobble. Gina steadied it with her hand.

 

“So, I was just checking in, making sure everything’s good with you,” he continued. 

 

“Yeah, everything’s good. I saw you didn’t like my latest instagram post, though.”

 

Jake thought back to his dead phone battery. “I haven’t seen it yet,” Jake reassured her. “How about your friends? How’s Dancey Reagan?”

 

Gina smiled. “If this is about Amy, I’ll save you the trouble and just tell you. She’s dead to me, and I never want to see her again.” She let out a laugh Jake was  _ pretty sure _ was fake and went back to her phone. He watched her for a moment, then slunk back to his desk. He had paperwork on two cases he had to finish up, and he booted his computer up with heavy fingers. The unease in his chest hadn’t loosened up one bit.

 

* * *

 

The trouble with being a cop is that you know, going in, that it involves unpredictable, unreasonable, unlikable hours. You cannot go through your career without having your schedule jump around like a toddler on a sugar rush. You  _ know  _ it’s going to happen, sooner or later, and you’ll have to cancel big plans, and the very thought of it will make you want to cry and punch a hole through your wall.

 

But you learn, eventually, after weeks and months and years of cancelled plans, to juggle work and personal life and the murky space where the two meet. So when Amy, with her own caseload and fresh from her own precinct drama, was scheduled to stop by the Nine-Nine at lunch to soften Gina up, she went in with the knowledge that successfully bringing their personal and work lives was paramount to their relationship succeeding. The challenge invigorated Amy, but terrified Jake.

 

It was the first time either of them had stopped by the other’s precinct. Jake had imagined that the first time it happened it would be for a romantic lunch date, and they’d smile nauseatingly at each other as their co workers groaned at them, and they’d walk out onto the street hand in hand as birds chirped around them.

 

(His daydreams were quite sappy.)

 

Instead, the first time it happened, Jake was sitting at his desk, interviewing the owner of the shop that was robbed. He hadn’t forgotten that Amy was stopping by, nor did he forget the importance of her stopping by, but he had spent the morning hoping that, somehow, the moment wouldn’t come and they could skip to some time in the near future when he and Amy could be curled up on his couch together, and maybe Gina adored Amy again and was texting them constantly to  _ go out and live it up _ with her.

 

The universe never did like to answer his prayers.

 

“Tell me about the employee you let go last month,” Jake asked the store owner. 

 

“Do you think they did it?”

 

“It’s best to explore all possible options,” Jake said gently. The elevator dinged behind them. “You never know - uh -” Amy’s heeled ankle boots clacked lightly on the tiled floor of the precinct, and Jake watched her retreating steps move towards Gina’s desk. She was a bit early.

 

Jake felt he really ought to have seen that coming. 

 

Jake’s fingers, hovering over his keyboard, went numb. “Excuse me one moment,” he told the store owner. He hopped over to where Gina was sitting, staring at Amy critically.

 

“He-ey, Ames,” he said. “You’re early for lunch.”

 

“Just by ten minutes,” Amy said. “I saw you working and thought I’d say hi to Gina. We didn’t really talk the other night. How’ve you been, Gina?”

 

Amy was giving her an out. Gina glanced up from her computer, and her brow crinkled in a way that made her look unusually severe.

 

“Working hard. We can’t all be unemployed, Amy.”

 

Amy blinked but her smile didn’t falter. “I’m not unemployed. I’m a cop!”

 

“Why aren’t you at work now?”

 

“I have the day off.”

 

“Cool.” Gina turned back to her computer and clicked her mouse loudly a few times. Jake caught Amy’s eye. Amy tried again.

 

“You know, I did some baking last night and went a little bit overboard. I thought I could share with you guys. White chocolate chip cookies. Extra chewy.”

 

They were extra chewy because she actually bought them at one of her favourite bakeries, but Jake didn’t say anything. Her original baking attempts would have pushed Gina further away. He would know, he was her taste-tester.

 

Gina was unamused, anyway.

 

“I don’t like cookies.”

 

Jake crossed his arms. “Since when?” Behind him, the shop owner was craning her neck to see what was taking him so long.

 

“Since always. Or since now. I don’t know, you figure it out, I have work to do.”

 

“Excuse me, will this take much longer?” the shop owner called out. Jake grimaced and motioned with one finger to show he’d be done in a minute. 

 

“Okay.” Amy said. She held up the plastic tupperware of cookies. “I’ll put these on Jake’s desk in case you change your mind.”

 

The shopkeeper called out again. “Excuse me.”

 

Jake ignored her. “Listen, G-”

 

“I think  _ you _ better listen. Charles just took over your interview.” The three of them looked over, and Charles was leading the store owner over to his desk, apologizing profusely.

 

“Oh, crap.” Time management was a bitch.

 

* * *

 

Jake groveled to Charles in the break room after lunch. He plied him with Amy’s cookies - with which Charles was mildly impressed - and Charles told him that  _ that was very irresponsible for him as the primary on this case _ . 

 

His words caused a burning sensation in Jake’s throat.

 

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t fair for you to do my work, too. I’m really, really sorry.”

 

Charles considered him for a moment, chewing slowly. A few crumbs fell onto his tie. “It’s fine, Jake. You have problems of your own right now.”

 

“But I shouldn’t have brought them into work.”

 

“Really, it’s alright. It’s not like you do it all the time.” He really did seem fine with it. 

 

Jake grabbed a cookie for himself. “Hey, you don’t think I was being all clingy with Amy back there, do you?”

 

“No, why?” Charles recoiled slightly. “Oh no, did she say you were?”

 

“No, she didn’t say anything. But I was supposed to let her talk to Gina on her own. I was only supposed to be her excuse for coming to the precinct.”

“And you’re afraid of being clingy and driving her away?”

 

Jake froze partway through his second cookie. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

 

“Hey, I didn’t say it was. You brought it up!”

 

Jake relaxed. “Right. Well, kinda, yeah. I just don’t want her to feel like I’m moving too fast.”

 

Charles saw Jake eyeing a third cookie and snapped the tupperware contained shut. With nothing in his hands, Jake traced the breakroom table with his fingers. “I thought you moved past that? You talked to her and you’re both on the same page now?”

 

“We did, and we were on the same page but… circumstances have changed and now I don’t know for sure where she is.” There was gum under the table, and Jake quickly pulled his hands away.

 

“You know-”

 

“Yeah, I know, the only way I’ll ever know for sure is if I talk to her. Ugh, Charles, you’re so wise.” Jake stood and walked away in search of a wet nap, not pushing in his chair behind him. Charles smiled thinly.

 

“Good talk, buddy.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jake took a backseat role when Amy next came by the precinct to talk to Gina. Inherent impatience and deep-seated clinginess made his fingers start to itch ten minutes before she was due to arrive.

 

Eight minutes to go, and his feet started to tap. 

 

Five minutes to go, and he darted into the evidence room before he broke and babbled to Gina.

 

The dim of the evidence room was calming. Jake hid as far back amongst the shelves as he could and sat on a low empty shelf, tracing patterns into thick layers of dust. The itch, however, didn’t go away.

 

It wasn’t often that Jake didn’t jump at on the impulse to  _ belong _ , not in the big scheme of things, but in the smaller interactions that made up the big picture; the same impulse Charles had, that Rosa didn’t, that Gina pretended she didn’t have. It was within his nature to be the instigator, to bring people together, and not helping Amy, who was by now just a hallway away asking Gina to lunch, was killing him.

 

_ Be patient _ , he told himself. Be patient and let it work itself out, because meddling-

 

Jake’s phone buzzed with a text message from Amy- three sad emojis in succession. He tapped the call button next to her name.

 

“Hey babe. It didn’t work?”

 

“Mmm, no, I’m gonna need your meddling expertise with me next time.”

 

Jake’s clingy heart soared.

 

* * *

 

Amy refused to come by the precinct for the third time to talk to Gina.

 

“If you include the time at the bar, your squad has seen me get shut down by Gina three times now. I can’t do it once more, I’ll never be able to see them again.”

 

“No! I want to keep inviting you out!”

 

“And I want that too, so we’re just gonna have to think of something else.”

 

Jake tried not to dwell too much on her  _ I want that, too _ , despite how much it made his stomach flutter stupidly. “Okay, our attempts have been too weak. We’re gonna have to use some old tricks.”

 

“Let her copy my homework again?”

 

“No. No -  _ you did that? _ ” Amy shrugged. “God, you didn’t ever let me copy your homework.” Amy glared at him and Jake moved on. “Never mind. No, I’m talking about the dance recital! That was a turning point in your friendship.”

 

“And I can write another review!”

 

“And I’ll bring more snacks this time!” Amy smiled at him with her head slightly tilted that made her look particularly cute.

 

_ Score. _ A date and a plan, all in one. They were getting there, Jake thought. Slowly but surely, they were getting there.

 


End file.
